“I suppose that’s true.”

He smiled. “So, talk to me.”

I let out a long sigh. “Okay, well, to understand me, you’d have to know that my parents were hippies.”

He crossed his arms. “Peace and love—nice.”

I nodded. “We moved around a lot when I was growing up. I always resented it—you know, having to change schools and everything. But as I got older, I became accustomed to the lifestyle. After college, I basically turned into my parents.”

“You became a hippie?”

“Not exactly. But I was never in one place. I’m a photographer. Years ago, right out of school, I worked for a music magazine and traveled the country shooting various bands. I’ve definitely seen my share of tour buses. And let me tell you, back then this girl liked to party right along with everyone else. It was fun for a long time, until—”

He finished my sentence. “Until it wasn’t.”

“Yeah, exactly. It hit me at a certain point that I was definitely becoming my parents, and while that had suited me just fine in my early twenties, it was starting to get old.”

“So you quit that job?”

“Not immediately. I met my ex-fiancé at a concert, ironically.”

Milo nodded. “The day the music died…”

That made me laugh again. Or maybe it was the alcohol.

“He was everything I wasn’t: conservative with roots. And for the first time in my life, I started to believe I wanted that type of a life instead of the one I had. I think I was really in search of a feeling of safety more than anything else.”

He leaned back and made himself more comfortable in his seat. “I can understand that.”

“His parents have been married for thirty-five years, and he still goes to his childhood home every Sunday night for a family dinner. I had no real home base, so I decided to quit my job to be with him.”

“You stopped taking pictures?”

“No. He helped me open a private studio. It’s become a thriving school-photography business. I’m the school photo queen of my town.”

“Riveting. Do you put those fake blue and pink laser beams in the backgrounds of your photos?”

“Of course not! That’s so eighties. I think my mom had a school photo like that, though.”

“I think everyone’s mom probably did. Don’t forget the profile face floating in the upper corner of the picture.” He laughed.

“I can proudly say that my photos are a lot classier than that.”

“In all seriousness, good for you for finding a way to profit from your talents.”

I shrugged. “School photography is far from creative, but it pays the bills and helps maintain the cushy life I’ve become accustomed to.”

He seemed to see right through me. “But sometimes you want to trade cushy for dirty again, don’t you?”

The way he said dirty sent a chill down my spine. I loved the way it sounded coming out of this guy’s mouth.

I could feel how red my face must have turned. “God, we’ve spent this entire time talking about me. I haven’t even asked you what the hell you’re doing in Vail.”

“I’m from here, actually. Grew up in Vail.”

That surprised me. “Really?”

“Yep.”

“So why are you staying at a hotel?”

“I don’t live here anymore. I was just visiting my parents and some friends. They live on the outskirts of town, and I wanted to spend a few days here in the heart of things.”

“Where do you live now?”

“Seattle.”

“What do you do?”

“I’m a high school music teacher.”

Not sure why, but that warmed my heart. I had the best memories of my music teachers, who were part of my early inspiration to pursue a career in music photography.

“Really? That’s so cool.”

“Well, I try to be cool, but generally my students can see through me.”

Damn. I could only imagine how many hormonal teenage girls had a crush on this guy. I was starting to feel a little like one of those girls the more I stared at him. He was sexy in a grungy way, his hair a perfect, tousled mess. There seemed to be a permanent glimmer in his eyes when he looked at me, a bit scrutinizing and a lot sexy. And don’t get me started on those lips, so full. They were quite distracting.

I shook my head, because the last thing I needed was to start fantasizing about some stranger I wouldn’t see after tomorrow.

I cleared my throat. “Wow, okay. So, we’ve both worked in fields that involve music—you in a much different capacity, of course.”

“Well, naturally, when you said you were a music photographer, my ears perked up. Except I chaperone field trips on school buses, whereas you were gallivanting on tour buses. The latter sounds much more exciting.”

I sighed. “It was.”

“I assume you dated some of the musicians?”

“Only one. Herbie Allen. The drummer for Snake. Ever hear of him?”

“Yeah, sure. Whatever happened with that?”

“We dated for a couple of months, and then I decided staying with a musician would ultimately end in heartbreak. I was scared to get hurt, so I broke up with him. Real ironic, considering my conservative fiancé was the one who ultimately broke my heart. I probably would’ve been safer with Herbie. At least that would have been more what-you-see-is-what-you-get.” I shook the thought away. “Anyway, tell me how you ended up becoming a music teacher.”